The Story of The FoxFaced Girl
by Kitaye
Summary: Vulpis Curtis is a fifteen-year-old girl who lives in the part of Panem called District 5. Her brother died in the Hunger Games four years previous. This year, when her name is drawn at the Reaping, she is plunged into the world of the Games, where life is a battle literally and the first impression is everything.


_I can make it, _I tell myself. _The Reaping is in two hours, and my name's only in there four times. I can make it. _The thing is, I can't guarantee it. I'm scared and restless, and I fidget all day. I get like this every year on Reaping day. There's nothing anyone can do to reassure me. I mean, sure, the odds are in my favor, I've never had to sign up for tesserae. But as long as my name goes in that Reaping bowl, there's always a chance that I'll get picked.

My name is Vulpis Curtis, and I'm 15 years old. I live in District 5, a citizen of the country of Panem. I have bright red hair and golden-brown eyes. I live in the middle class part of District 5, with my parents. I'm an only child. Sometimes, people call me the "Fox," because I'm so smart. I'm at the top of my class at school. I may even graduate early, but I won't if I get Reaped.

Surely, for a girl this smart, you'd think I wouldn't worry. You'd think that I'd outsmart everyone and win. That might happen, if it weren't for the Careers- the male and female tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4. They are big and muscular, while I'm small and skinny. They've been training their whole lives for the Games, while all I really have is my speed and my skill with edible plants. So, now try to tell me not to worry. Yeah, you can't now, can you? Neither can anyone else. They can't blame me for fidgeting, shaking, or even breaking down and crying on Reaping day. You wanna know why? Here, I'll tell you.

It all started about three years ago. I had just turned twelve, so it was my first time in the Reaping. My older brother, Fidel, was eighteen. It was his last year in the Reaping. We thought we were both perfectly safe, since usually, people don't get picked on their last or first year of eligibility. How wrong we both were. How completely, utterly wrong.

They had just picked the female tribute, some small thirteen-year old who had short black hair. Larice, our District 5 escort, crossed over to the boys' ball. He reached his hand in, dug around for a few minutes, and took a slip off of the very bottom of the bowl. Then he read the name off of the slip. "_Fidel Curtis_." My brother. I wouldn't let them have him. I ran up to him, screaming his name, begging him not to go, when a Peacekeeper grabbed me and threw me back into the crowd. I wailed as he stepped on the stage, introduced himself, and left. I cried when we had to leave the Justice Building so that he could get on the train. I screamed and yelled and bawled when the train pulled out of the station. I just couldn't believe it. His last year of eligibility, and they were going to strip him from me.

The next few weeks, I watched every moment of the Games. I watched my brother run from mutts and shiver in the cold and hide from the other tributes. I watched all of it. I cried myself to sleep and had nightmares every night. I even watched his death as it was aired live on national television.

The Gamemakers had called a feast at the Cornucopia. When my brother arrived, he waited. Probably for another tribute to make a run for it. All of the sudden, the only remaining Career tribute, the male from District 2, burst into the clearing, followed by bird-mutts. A few branched off in other directions, chasing the tributes in their hiding places. Finally, after a while of screams and wild chases, all of the remaining ten tributes were on the Cornucopia. My brother was one of the first. When the Career boy regained his senses, he grabbed my brother by the neck. He violently beat my brother against the Cornucopia while a few other tributes tried to get the boy off of my brother. He just kept on going. Then, after a while, he threw my brother into the reach of the bird-mutts, who swarmed around him and tore him to shreds. That was it. No more Fidel. No more of his smile, no more of those funny jokes he used to make. No more.

That was the worst night of my life. The next day, everybody at school was giving me condolences, shooting me sorrowful smiles. It was torture. I lived every Reaping day after that with sheer terror. I hated the Reaping. I hated the Hunger Games. I hated the Capitol.

Oh, there's the bell. The one that means it's two o'clock. Time for the Reaping.

I head to town square with my friends on either side of me. I don't know how I'd survive this day without them. We check in, then head to our section, which is specifically for fifteen-year-olds. I'm standing, impatient for them to start and get things over with, when I feel someone's eyes on my back. I turn my head and see him. Tall, muscular, with dark skin, probably from sun exposure. He's got short, spiky brown hair and deep black eyes. From which section he's in, I'm guessing that he's sixteen. _Wow, he's hot, _I think before I can stop myself. I blush and sharply turn away. Only the sharp noise of Larice's Capitol voice brings me back to reality. He goes through the Reaping as usual: reading Panem's history, listening to the Panem anthem. Then he says, "So, on with the Reaping. We will start with our female tribute." He crosses over to the females' ball, reaches his hand in, and picks a slip from the very top. He returns to the microphone, unfolds the slip, and reads the name. "Vulpis Curtis." I can feel my eyes widen, and my heart starts racing. _Oh, no,_ I think. I slowly walk up to the stage, feeling numb. Why me?

I can't register Larice's words. He pardons me from introducing myself, and he continues to call the male tribute's name. "Blitz Null." I'm in shock as the tall boy who'd been looking at me earlier walks up to the stage and takes his place beside me. We shake hands. Then they play the anthem once again as we are marched off the stage. I look back only for a second, to catch a Peacekeeper shoot my father, who had been trying to get to me. I walked into the Justice Building, tears streaming down my face.

_ "Why me?"_


End file.
